Please Don't Go
by poisonnwine
Summary: Takes place right after 5x05. Toby ends up in the hospital after getting too close to the explosion. How will Spencer react? "When she discovers a rhetoric that is worthy enough to describe how she feels, she wants to say these words to his face—to his beautiful blue eyes, not a gray, stone grave." Twoshot.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n: this was going to be a one shot at first, but it's a two shot now because sh... **

**Also I need help. Why do I write things like this? Anyways. In the promo there's another explosion, and since Toby ran in there...yeah.**

**The title is a Barcelona song :)**

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><p><strong><span>Please Don't Go<span>**

She isn't sure how she feels. Angry? Worried? Scared? _Sad? _She isn't sure what she is _supposed_ to be feeling. It's not that she's never been in this situation before; sitting and wondering if the person she loves will be okay. She's done this so many times—over and over again. Each time seemingly becoming more difficult. Which doesn't make sense, really. After so many times of practice, she should be good at this, right? _Practice makes perfect. _But yet, here she is, puffy eyed and shaking.

Her hands literally have not stopped shaking since it happened. It's from the anxiety—the worrying, the panic that had risen in her at the blow is refusing to let go. She keeps clasping her hands together, trying to prevent the quivering, or she'll put them in her pockets, just so her friends can't see just how badly she's feeling right now.

Ezra had gone home, along with Alison. Spencer doesn't blame Ezra for leaving. In fact, Spencer's kind of _glad _he left. She's still weary of him, even if it all _was _for a stupid book. Besides, his presence is not really needed. He isn't a friend of Toby's—Spencer isn't even sure if Ezra ever _taught _Toby. But Alison is a different story…

It's not that Alison should be here for Toby or anything. She had made his life miserable for a good portion of time. But that doesn't mean that she shouldn't be here for _Spencer._ If she has changed into this incredible person, it seems like she would be there for her friend who is currently living in a muck of duress. She had told the group that her father wanted her home. It was believable. There was a freaking _explosion _across the street, but Alison has manipulated her father times before to let her stay out. Maybe Spencer is just being overdramatic, looking for someone to take her anger out on. Maybe she just refuses to believe that Alison has changed. From the video on Mona's phone, it certainly seems like she _hasn't. _But trusting Mona over Alison is something Spencer isn't sure she can quite commit to. Mona is manipulative, twisted, and conniving, just like Alison. But there is a question left in Spencer's mind on who holds these traits with a stronger grip.

Spencer is zapped out of her thoughts when she feels a pair of hands over her own. Her eyes flash open to the person sitting next to her; the person who owns the set of hands. She has a compassionate smile on her face—something that she has surely grown to master over years of emotional torment. "Your hands are shaking more than the time you drank two liters of coffee in one day," she puts forth, jokingly.

Spencer offers a smile, but she knows it's most likely pathetic. She's tired. She was alreadytired _before_ the explosion. Between yesterday and today, she has been completely emotionally drained.

"The paramedics said that he'll probably be fine."

"Yeah, it's the _probably _I'm worried about," Spencer comments, sardonically. She grinds her teeth together, feeling her eyes well up with tears for the millionth time of the night. There are so many possibilities. They are endless. And honestly if the doctors hadn't came in to tell them that his vitals are good for the amount of damage he ensued, Spencer would still probably be bawling her eyes out.

Hanna slides an arm around her brunette, shaking friend a second later, keeping one hand on top of Spencer's shaking ones. She gratefully leans into her friend, mentally noting that no one can hold her like Toby does. When he holds her, she feels _safe. _She feels _home. _Her friends are her family. She could never put anyone above them. But Toby is her _home. _He's her sanctuary; her stability; her _safety_. No one else can reinforce those feeling upon her. Only him.

…

Sometime between leaning her head on Hanna's shoulder and watching Caleb depart from the hospital, Spencer fell asleep. She isn't even sure _how. _She had been bloating with emotions before. She still _is. _She isn't sure how long she's been out, or what time it is. They have school tomorrow, but the chance that Spencer shows up seems little to zero. Before –A and Alison's disappearance, missing school, or skipping to be more accurate would have resulted Spencer in a full on melt down. But that was before. When a petty, perfect attendance mattered. That's what she had to worry about. Not –A. Not her boyfriend possibly _dying. _Not any of that. It was all just frivolous matters that don't even seem important anymore.

She leans away from Hanna carefully, doing her best not to wake her.

She glances at her other sleeping friends before walking up to the informational desk. It was the same lady from before, which isn't really shocking. They have twelve hour shifts most likely, and it most definitely has not been twelve hours. But she does desperately wish it has, just so she could be speaking with another woman. This one was grouchy and irritable when she talked to her before, even with an endless supply of Cafeteria Coffee to accommodate her.

"Excuse me," she mumbles. The girls and her are the only ones in the Emergency waiting room. It isn't like she is having some horrible night or anything.

The woman looks at Spencer, looking as if she wants to roll her eyes. "Yes?" she prompts, pointedly looking at Spencer. The woman is patronizing her. Of course she is. _She's just some stupid teenager. What on earth could possibly be going on in her life?_

"Is there any news on how Toby Cavanaugh is doing ?" she asks.

"Yes, actually," her rolling chair moves over a little, turning her body towards the computer. "He was moved. About an hour and a half ago from Emergency Burn Unit to ICU."

"How is he—can I see him?" she is quick to ask, edging closer to the desk. But she can't stop thinking about what the nurse said. The ICU? Sure, it's better than emergency, but if he's in the ICU, there has to be something seriously wrong with him.

"No. Not right now. Visiting hours in the ICU for non-family members are 7AM to 8PM."

"7AM? I—no. I need to see him _now,_ okay? His parents aren't even in town. Who even knows when they'll show up! Who can I talk to about this?" she demands.

The woman sighs, "these are just the policies, hon. His grandmother came by while you were snoozing. Don't worry. Your friend has someone."

She rolls her eyes. _Friend. _It's frankly insulting. _Boyfriend _would be insulting. Toby is so much more than both of those things. But she _is _glad that he has someone…

"Then who can I talk to about his condition?" she demands firmly. "What's going on with him?" she persists.

The woman pulls up something on the computer again, not even bothering to hold her sigh. "There's multiple third and second degree burns on the left side of his body. He has lost many fluids, so he's hooked up to an IV. His breathing is highly irregular, which is why they kept him in ICU. They think the burns might have affected his lungs, but it may just be all the smoke he inhaled. They may incubate him. He's just connected to a ventilator to help him breathe for now…" the woman reads off, for the most part, emotionless. "They put him on morphine to reduce the pain, and also are using topical antibiotics for the burns, currently."

Spencer pushes away the tears from her face with the back of her palm, barely making out the words, "thank you," through her closed throat. She doesn't meet the woman's eyes. She just turns around. But to her surprise, she's stopped.

"Wait." A sigh is accompanied to the words.

Spencer apprehensively turns around.

"It's almost seven. I'm sure they won't mind letting you in a half an hour early," she states. Spencer is so stunned, she doesn't even know how to respond. "Just let me call down to the ICU," the woman inhales deeply before picking up a phone.

Spencer turns from the woman while she's on the phone. Mostly because she needs to digest it all. Toby—her Toby—is in critical condition, covered in burns and bandages. What if he can never breathe right again? What if he doesn't get the chance to breathe again? What if he doesn't make it? These thoughts haunt her. Sending her to the place she had been when she found him in the woods. She tries to keep her composure. Tries to remain steady, but she physically cannot hold it in. She lets out a sob into her hands, leaning against the wall for support. She fights her hardest to stand straight, to keep her body from crumbling forward. But all her legs want to do is break. She holds the wall, trying to catch her breath through her sobs. She doesn't even care about being embarrassed right now. She doesn't care that she is bawling her eyes out in front of some total stranger. None of that stuff matters.

Eventually, she evens out her breath and wipes the dew out from under her eyes, before turning back to the hospital worker. She gives her a sympathetic smile before delivering the news that she's convinced the one of the ICU nurses to let Spencer in early.

Spencer makes her way up to the ICU with a form that states she is allowed and eligible to enter the ICU. She washes her hands, and follows all the standard procedures before entering. She looks around, trying to find Toby, but curtains hide most of the patients. She goes towards the center of the room, where all the nurses and doctors sit, watching signals and vitals and breathing patterns.

"Excuse me, can you guide me to Toby Cavanaugh?" she requests, quietly.

The nurse points to the room that hangs in the left corner of the room. Spencer murmurs a small thanks before making her way over.

She pushes the curtain open and enters the small room where Toby resides. She covers her mouth the second she sees him, trying desperately to hold down the sob that desperately strives for volume inside her. His upper chest is completely covered with bandages. Cuts and small burns intrude is jaw line. She walks up to him slowly, letting her fingers graze over the bandaging. She slowly brings down the hand from her mouth and touches his bantered up cheek. "Toby…" her voice catches, quietly. She shakes her head, taking a seat in the chair next to him. She stokes his face, pushing back his hair, letting her hands graze over his body.

She thanks God for the bandages. She doesn't know if she could handle actually _seeing _the burns. At least not right now… Not when she doesn't know if she'll be able to walk out of here with him without the assistance of a funeral director.

"Toby…" her voice breaks again, pain and misery engraved in her tone. She presses a light kiss to his forehead. "I love you… please get better. _Please_."

…

She jolts awake at the sound of a nurse.

"I'm going to need to apply some topical antibiotics. You're going to need to leave the room."

"Wait. Are you waking him up? Can't I… can't I be here for that?" she requests, wiping at her eyes, washing away the dried up tears from however long ago.

"No. You can see him after," she orders, strictly. "Please step out of the room."

Spencer gives a long glance at Toby before stepping up and exiting the room.

Her legs feel like gelatin as she walks away from him. She doesn't know if it's because she hasn't eaten anything since 5PM yesterday (however long ago that was),t he fact that she has not had her daily morning coffee, or if it is simply just Toby doing this to her. Her normally rapid brain waves move slowly, her mind only focusing on one thing. _Toby. _

She hears his voice—muffled—through the curtain and her heart drops into her chest. She wants to fling the curtain open, push past the nurse, and bring Toby into her arms, but she knows that if she does that she'll most likely get thrown out of the ICU. She'll just have to be patient.

The nurse soon leaves, and Spencer rushes in after. She rushes to him. Only when she is in touching distance does she meet his eyes. She strokes his face, pushing back the long locks so she can get a good look at it. She chokes on a sob when she attempts to speak.

He reaches up to her, placing a hand on her cheek. She grabs it with one of hands, shaking her wet face into it. "Toby," she rasps out brokenly. Her body breaks down, falling into the chair beside him. His eyes chase after her quickly.

His hand falls back beside him, tiring out his arm. Spencer doesn't let go though. She keeps her hand placed on his, even when it recoils back to his side.

She doesn't have the capability to speak, not without hurdling out a sob. So, for a little while she just stares at him, silently crying and holding his hand—her tears sometimes rolling all the way down her face and on his bed sheets. His eyes are clouded with a drowsiness, most likely having to do with the morphine that still resides in his system. He looks sad, too. And Spencer can't really blame him. But it isn't the type of sad that you would normally see painted on someone's face when their childhood home burnt down. It's a sympathetic sad—a self loathing sad. A sadness that is peculiar and ambiguous to her.

Soon Toby is back to sleep, probably having to do with the morphine still in his system, one again. His father and step mother show up around 10AM, and Spencer leaves once they show up. Not the hospital. But the ICU unit. She isn't even sure where her friends are, or if they know where _she _is. Her phone died a long time ago, and she hasn't made a visit back home.

She finds her friends in the hospital's waiting area for the ICU, which surprises her. She wasn't expecting to find them so easily.

Aria is the one who greets her first, stepping up from the chair. "The nurse told us he transferred, and we figured you went into visit him."

"I was going to go in, but I figured I would give you guys some time alone…" Emily joins in. "Then I saw his parents go in. I think I'll just wait till later…" Emily goes on. "Did you talk to him? Is he—is it bad?"

Spencer takes in a breath. She isn't sure what she looks like right now, but she most likely looks horrid. Spencer wasn't completely sure if Toby's parents' pale expressions had to do with her appearance or Toby's. Spencer imagines she looks like death. "Um," her voice comes out quietly. "Yeah, it's…it's… I didn't actually see the burns, but there's a lot of gauze…and um," she looks away. "They might have to intubate him because…he's not breathing right," she manages to say through an assortment of mumbles and exhales.

"What does intubate mean?" Hanna asks.

Aria and Emily give her a glare before Emily answers the blonde's question. "They might have to put a tube down his throat and into his lungs," she explains in a whisper, perhaps trying to guard the words from Spencer. But it didn't work. Spencer heard them. "My grandmother had to have it…" she explains.

"Can we just go get something to eat?" she requests. "I just really need something in my stomach besides a growing ball of anxiety."

"Yeah, sure," Aria states, wrapping an arm around her friend. "Of course."

…

After lunch, a phone call, and three cups of coffee, she heads back up to the ICU. She called her mother, telling her that she's still at the hospital off Emily's phone (she had called her the sometime during the night before, too.) Her mother persisted that she come back to the hotel to at least change into a new pair of clothes, but Spencer refused. In response to this, her mother had told her she would come back to the hospital to deliver a new outfit. In the meantime, Spencer spends her time at Toby's bedside.

His parents are in the small room too, along with Emily. It is pretty tight. Spencer understands why the maximum capacity is four people.

It is kind of awkward with Toby's father and step mother in the room. She's only met them a couple times, and most of those times where under circumstances like this. They never had that meet-the-girlfriend-dinner like most couples. They weren't like most couples, to be fair.

She is pretty sure they don't like her, anyways. Toby denies it, but there is a strange vibe she picks up from them. Maybe Jenna tells the couple things about her. Spencer wouldn't doubt it.

Soon her mother arrives with a fresh batch of clothes and questions Spencer has no desire to answer. Luckily Aria, Emily and Hanna are there to fill her mother in. When Spencer returns to the bathroom, sporting a fresh pair of closes and a new hairstyle, Aria and Hanna announce that they are going to head home for awhile, _if it's okay. _Spencer, of course, frees them from the restraints of staying. It's not _their _boyfriend on his potential death bed.

Her mother stays for awhile in the waiting room, even though Spencer spends almost all her time with Toby. Every time Spencer comes out of the ICU, her mother suggests she takes a break from the hospital, but if she leaves now, she won't be able to come back till tomorrow morning most likely. It's almost seven, which means she only has an hour left with Toby before she's forced to leave. Emily on the other hand, calls it day. She heads home, apologizing that she can't stay longer. But Spencer understands—really, she does. Toby's parents also descend from the room. Except since they are family, they can come back later. It really isn't fair. Joining the parade of exits is her mother. She gives her a hug before leaving, telling her she really does hope with all her heart that Toby will be fine.

For the first time since the morning, Spencer's left alone with Toby. They've apparently given him more morphine to relieve the pain, so the chances of him acknowledging her are pretty slim. He had woken up a few times during the day, but had been in a haze. He would only be up for a couple seconds, too. Most of the time it didn't even feel like it was really _him. _

But even though there's no chance at a two person dialogue, she stays. Even though she isn't even sure he _knows _she's here, she stays. Because she knows that if she were anywhere else, she'd only be itching to come back here and sit beside him.

She read once that even if someone is looped out on morphine, they can still understand you. You can talk to them, and they'll hear you. Before she was too congested with sobs to speak, and then his parents decided to make an appearance—she wasn't about to pour her heart out to him with them in the room. It would feel wrong. This is a private moment. Their relationship has always been private. They didn't parade it around. It was for them. _Is _for them.

She entwines her hand with his, linking their fingers together tightly. More tightly than she normally does. She gulps before speaking, "every time I think that I can just stop worrying—stop obsessing over keeping you safe, something like this happens," she states, salty tears pitter patting on her words. She wants to say more. She has more to say. But what she has been scripting out in her mind all day suddenly seems impossible to say aloud. There's no words to describe the depth at which she needs him to survive. Nowhere in the dictionary will she find the words to express the amount of desperation she feels. "I love you, Toby. _So much._ Please be okay," she finally settles on the words, sealing the sincerity of the words with a kiss on the palm of his hand.

Eventually the nurse comes in, telling her that she wish she could grant her the pass to stay, but unfortunately it doesn't work like that. Spencer understands. Not the hospital policy, but the nurse at least. She's just doing her job. Spencer doesn't want to make any trouble for her. She presses a kiss to Toby's forehead, frowning a little, before whispering another "I love you." Normally she doesn't use the three words so frequently. It's something that's just _known _between them. But Spencer feels a need to say it. Her tongue feels an urge to conduct the words. The words, which are never enough, but yet so wholesome. The words that so naturally roll of her tongue around Toby.

She hopes that she still has time to construct her all feelings into words. There's so much she still doesn't know how to tell him—so many things that have been left unsaid between him and her heart. She needs more time to find right words. She needs more time with him.

When she discovers a rhetoric that is worthy enough to describe how she feels, she wants to say these words to his face—to his beautiful blue eyes, not a gray, stone grave.

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><p><strong>an: tell me what you think? ha ha ha. **


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm so pissed off how we didn't get to see Spencer visit him in the hospital? Like. Are you joking? W/e.**

**But thanks so so so very much for the reviews! Sorry it took so long to update. I suck. :P**

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><p>Part two.<p>

She spends most of her night thinking of him.

There's too many directions this can go. There's too many things that can go wrong. Her mind is not equip to handle all of this. She isn't wired correctly to deal with this. Whenever Toby's in trouble, it's like her whole entire brain just goes haywire, completely at loss on what to do. She becomes some form of a zombie, only able to coherent one thing: _Toby_.

She hates how little power and control she has when Toby's in danger. She is so weak and vunerable when he's in this kind of state. She's entirely useless to everything and everyone. She is just some pathetic teenage girl with puffy eyes and a torn heart.

She keeps watching the clock, expecting the digital numbers to take a giant leap forward. She has missed him so many times in her life—too many times. They live on a constant stirring axis. When he meets the horizon, she is already gone under. They are always missing each other; always apart. Always separated by some wall of secrets or distance. She is always yearning for him. It's a constant longing to be beside him. A constant battle to not just run into his arms, and ride the truck into the sunset, away from all this chaos.

When the clock strikes 6AM, she decides to just get up. She's not getting any sleep. That's clear. She makes her coffee, and gets ready for the day, eating a granola bar for breakfast. When she is all done, it is 6:32. The hospital is only ten minutes down the road, but she decides to just go anyways. Maybe they'll let her in early.

When she gets to the hospital, she is delivered with good news. _Very _good news. News that engulfs her entire body in relief.

_Toby was moved to another unit. A regular patient unit. He has been removed from ICU._

She doesn't even know what to say to the woman at the desk. She's too ecstatic to even form words. _Thanks _cannot even begin to express how much gratitude she feels. She knows the lady at the front desk probably had nothing to do with any of it, but still.

"If you want, you can go see him. Visiting hours start at 8AM, but they're pretty casual about it. I can get you in."

_"Please_," the word jumps out of her throat eagerly. "Thank you."

She walks through the hospital, feeling lighter than she did before. She suddenly feels like she has grown stronger. Toby has recovered some of his strength, and in doing so, so has she. She can walk now without feeling like she is about to tumble over. She can breathe without feeling like her lungs are about to collapse. She can put her horrendous worries to rest (for now at least.)

She finds his room quickly. She goes in and takes a seat next to him. He's still asleep, and she refuses to wake him, so instead she just sits next to him, watching his restful state.

She ends up falling asleep herself. Probably due to her night of restlessness and anxiety ridden insomnia. When she opens her eyes, Toby is peering up at her. He's actually staring at her. His pale blue eyes filled with a sort of sadness to some degree, but also adoration.

She jumps up in her seat quickly, pressing her hands to the sides of his face. She tries to form a coherent sentence, but her tongue just keeps fumbling around in her mouth, clueless on how to form any syllable. She caresses his cheeks, feeling light stubble meet her fingers. He keeps his sapphire eyes steady on her, unwilling to let her maple orbs go.

She feels overwhelmed. Suddenly she is crying, and she doesn't even know why. When did she become so emotional? When did she become a person who lets herself cry in front of people. She doesn't even bother to wipe it away. She refuses to take her hands off her boyfriend. She needs to touch him. She needs to feel him. She is desperate for his touch.

"Toby—," she starts, swallowing. She is too overcome. She is too deep in the pit of emotions. She wants to yell at him, but she also wants to tell him how happy she is—how completely ecstatic she is that he is okay. That's he's here with her, and not on the way to some funeral home. She wants to kiss him. She wants to hold him. She wants him to apologize for putting her through so much turmoil and heartache. It's all too much at once.

He reaches out to her, touching her cheek. He's still getting help with oxygen, tubes in his noise, and chords along his face.

She leans into his touch, squeezing her eyes shut. She quickly realizes she is being selfish. Toby has literally endured third degree burns, and his child hood home burning down, but yet, _she's _the one who is hysterical. "Don't do that again," she opens her eyes, her words desperate and frantic. She shakes her head a little bit, "please, please don't ever do anything like that again."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs softly, the words genuine.

She sighs. His arm goes back to his side—he's probably still feeling weak. She presses her lips to his, needing to feel her mouth against his. Needing a taste of him. She was so afraid she would never get a chance to do this again. She was terrified that their last kiss would have marked an ending for them.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I love you." She breaks out, making circles on the sides of his face with her thumbs. "Toby, I'm so, so sorry."

"It's not your fault," he gives her that look. The look he always gives her when she tries to blame every horrible thing that happens to him on herself. But it's true. It _is _her fault. She isn't sure why –A targeted Toby's house for their morbid opening ceremony, but she can't help but feel guilty. Toby wouldn't be tied up in this if it wasn't for her. He wouldn't have his childhood blown to ashes.

"But—,"

"Spencer," he says.

She shakes her head. "I don't understand."

"Me either. But… but, it's not your fault, Spencer."

She doesn't look at him.

"Spencer," he urges. "Look at me."

She moves her copper eyes to him, frowning.

"It's. Not. Your. Fault."

She exhales through her nose. "We got an –A text after," she confesses in a whisper. "It's –A. It's—it's always –A. She—he's back."

Toby frowns, his eyes flickering southward. Her hands fall down his face, her fingers trailing down his neck and to his chest. She halts above his bandages, gulping. Her heart breaks a little. He'll always have a reminder of this. He'll never be able to move on. Not with these burn scars staring back at him every time he looks in the mirror.

"Why did you go in there?" her voice breaks out softly. She has an idea already. He went in right after Caleb had asked if anyone was in there. Toby's always trying to play hero—always trying to protect everyone, even if he hurts himself in the process. Maybe that's why they get along so well.

He shakes his head. "I—I don't know. When Caleb asked if anyone was in there, I just went immediately thought the worst…" he speaks softly. He sighs a little before reaching for Spencer's hand. She immediately responds to his action, linking their fingers together, using her other hand to push the long locks out of his face. "I lost my mom…I just," his voice catches on the words. "I couldn't lose my dad too."

She winces at his pain. He deserves so much better than this. He has already lost so much. He has already been through his fair share of pain. It's not fair. _It's not fair._

She sniffles, "I—I'm, I just—," her head falls for a second. She looks back at him a moment after, "I'm sorry."

"Spencer."

"You deserve more."

"So do you—so does everyone."

"I love you." She's crying again. She knew that getting away from –A wasn't going to be that easy. She knew it was too good to be true. She knew all of this, but yet she let herself think for a second that it was all over. That they finally could just take a breather. But even a world without –A is horrible. In every universe, her life is a complete chaotic mess.

"I love you, too." He states firmly.

"I'm really glad you're okay—I just. How long is it until this happens again?" her words are jagged and broken. "How long do we get before the next –A raid?"

She shakes his head, completely helpless and clueless. "I don't know," he presents the words in a hopeless sort of way. Her heart trembles in her chest a little.

"Do you—did you, you took a lot of your mom's belongings out of the house and into your loft, right?" she questions after a moment. She knows that Toby isn't fine about this. She knows that the burns on his body hurt way less than the loss of the house. He's already lost his mother. Now he lost the house that he grew up in. The place where his mother raised a garden and made cookies. The place where most of his fondest memories with his mother reside.

"Yeah," he delivers breathily. "Yeah, but—there was a lot I didn't get the chance to take…" he swallows.

"It's okay," she tips his chin up so he is forced to meet her eyes.

She arranges a compassionate, tender, sad smile on her face. "It's okay."

He leans his face into her caress, closing his eyes. She leans her body over him, wrapping him in her arms, her fingers tangling through the long locks of his. She wants to give him everything. She would take his wombs if she could. She would take his tragedies and swallow them down if it was possible. She longs to relinquish him from this heartache. She desires so much to just protect him from anymore pain. She doesn't care about herself anymore. She has no self importance left in her. She used to. She used to suffer from selfishness and self involvement, but it's so different now. She would do anything for the people she loves. She would sacrifice herself for them in a heartbeat if it would make it all stop.

She feels his tears melt onto her hands, everything inside of him finally cracking. Finally letting it all go. She'll be here to wipe away the tears.

* * *

><p>He's discharged a few days later. He has to apply the antibiotics twice daily, and stay away from any major, heavy work, which is unfortunately what he does for a living. Spencer to loan him money. She doesn't want him doing anything that will put him in danger of a health risk. He promises to pay her back, and she trusts him in doing so. He kept his promise with the truck.<p>

She spends a lot of her time with him. Well, a lot of her _free _time with him, which is unfortunately not a lot of time at all. Ali is always needing help with something. There is always something to discuss in hushed whispers, always something to fear. She's behind on school, too. She missed a couple days with Toby in the hospital.

But when she is not catching up in school, or busy with –A/Mona/Ali, she is with Toby. She is right next to him, refusing to let him go through any of this alone. Like he is there for her, she is there for him. She won't let him be alone.

It's Friday, which means she is able to sleep over. She can be with him the whole night to hold him. She can be here for him from dusk to dawn.

"I have to...apply my antibiotics," he states in a low mumble. They had been lounging on his couch, both reading a different book. But then Spencer's eye lids got too tired. She had begun to just admire her boyfriend, and soon his head ended up in her lap. He discontinued his reading after awhile, too, letting his eyes close as his girlfriend ran her fingers through his hair.

He knew he would pass out if he spent anymore time in her sanctuary-her fingers tousling in his air, and her warm body pressing against the back of his head. He wouldn't be able to stand to stay awake with the amount of tranquility he was feeling in her hold. He had to stop it.

"Okay," she replies, still moving her hands through his hair. "Can I help?" her question is timid.

He opens his eyes, and nods a little before sitting up.

"It's kind of—gruesome," he warns, still sitting next to her.

"I can handle it."

Everything that Spencer says sounds so sure. She sounds so confident, so strong most of the time. So when she doesn't sound that way-when her voice breaks and her breath catches, it literally splits his heart open. Especially when she gets that way over him. He wishes he didn't worry her so much. He desperately wishes that she would just focus on herself.

They go to the bathroom, where he keeps it. She stares at him expectantly, an accepting and encouraging look painted across her features. It's not that he's embarrassed to show her. She's probably the only person in the world that he trusts not to judge. But he knows how she'll react when she see's the scars. She'll engulf in his pain, and torture herself with the image, blaming herself for some nonsensical reason or another.

"Are you sure you want to see it?"

He knows that she will see it eventually anyways. But it will get better with time. Right now it's still healing. It's still a fresh, raw womb.

"Toby," she purrs softly, her soft brown eyes locking with his.

"I just don't want to...startle you."

Her fingers meet the hem of his shirt gently, the tips of her fingers pressing at his abdomen. Her eyes flicker down for a moment before flashing back at up at him. There's a question in her maple orbs. He looks down at her hands before stretching out his arms to the ceiling. She slips her hands underneath the fabric, pushing it up and tugging it off of him. He helps her out, shuffling out of the shirt. It falls to the floor like Spencer's eyes fall to his burns. She takes in sharp breath through her nose before snapping her eyes up at him, but only for a second. Her doe eyes are soon scanning his body once again, along with her fingers. She hovers over the deep burns, letting her fingers travel around the burnt skin.

"It's not pretty. I know." He states, a little more brokenly than he would like to admit. "I guess that's what you get for running into a burning building," he attempts a joke, but she lets it go unacknowledged.

She stares up at him with affection and care glowing in her eyes. But it only lasts for a second.

She leans into him, pressing a gentle kiss around the burnt areas on his chest—each kiss light and curing. She is gentle, barely grazing him, but yet leaving a trace of relief with every kiss she plants. With every kiss, she nurtures him back to health. She releases the pain that clings to his limbs and misery that floods his veins. She is his own personal antidote.

She presses her mouth to his after awhile, pouring herself into him, taking him into her. His hands lazily wrap around her, hoisting on her hips. She keeps him steady. She keeps him stable. She's always going on about how he is her safe place to land, but she is the cement, the concrete, the glue that holds him together. She is what keeps him from crumbling. She is _everything. _

She is so soft with him. So careful. So precise. It's not surprising at all. She can pull a hole through the tiniest thread hole. She can separate egg white like a master chef. She can make him feel like the world is not such an awful place to be.

* * *

><p><strong>an: yay! Toby lives! HAHAHA. ;) I _do _kill Toby a lot, don't I? Poor guy.**


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